The way you shortcircuited my brain
by chihana
Summary: DamiTim; Tim takes care of his father's lands in his absence, and he receives an unexpected visit. Medieval AU.
1. Of books and visits

Tim had been reading the same line for the last ten minutes. It was a nice summer afternoon, or so it seemed from inside the castle. Tim wouldn't know. There was nothing for him out there, not like he could go too far, though. There was work every day for him at the castle, specially not then, with the summer harvest, and he never got any visits. Who was going to visit, though? The Drake's lands were the ones farther away from the Royal Court in the kingdom, the relationships with the border were completely neutral, and not even the Lord of the Manor wanted to spend time there. Why else would be Tim in charge of everything? He was the youngest person living in the castle by far, the most important, and the only one who couldn't leave it without negative consequences.

Tim also needed new books. Even if everybody considered them a ridiculous luxury, it's not like he spent money in anything else, he didn't even had a horse, And you could only read the analysis of Gotham's archaic architecture so many times. He'd soon need to send someone to the capital to get him more ink, too. Tim was the only one who ever needed to write anything in his parents lands. Possibly the only person who could write, too. Sometimes Tim wondered why had he even bothered to learn, but he didn't have any other way to pass his time while he was still living there

With a sigh, Tim left the book on the table and stood up. He would check the gate. Maybe a merchant from Krypton would arrive -it was the season, and those often had interesting products. Or maybe get something to eat from the kitchen. Anything but staying in there, with his old books and his parchments full of numbers, feeling more trapped with every second that passed.

He greeted all the servans he saw on his way to the gates, but nobody said anything besides a respectful "Good day, Master Timothy." Tim knew that he was well liked, but Lord Jack had always wanted them to keep a distance, and they kept doing so while he was away. They were all good people, and there was no risk for them to start being disrespectful to Tim, so at the end this only served to deprive Tim of any chance at starting a conversation about anything that wasn't supplies and harvest. Tim walked across the courtyard as fast as he could and reached the open gates, sitting in front of them in a spot in the shade.

After a couple of minutes just staring at the road his eyes started wandering around the landscape. There were some people walking around the fields, most people were hiding from the heat. Tim's eyes, in fact, had started hurting from the brightness of the sun, and he soon resigned himself to get an apple and go back to his books. As he was reaching the kitchen, though, somebody called him.

"Master Timothy! There's a group of horsemen approaching the castle!" Tim turned around and found himself facing one of the guards at the gate. For a moment he feared that the guard was just laughing at him, after seeing him looking so desperate for some entertaiment, but he dimissed the thought inmediately and smiled at the guard just a tad bit too eagerly.

"That's wonderful! I-" Tim fidgeted for a moment. It had been so long since they had gotten any visitors, he went blank for a moment. Horsemen! Maybe soldiers? Merchants didn't have horses, Tim was sure that whoever they were, they'd want to talk to the person in charge. "Give orders to prepare the sitting room! I'll go get ready!" and without even waiting for an answer, he turned around and ran upstairs.

-

Of course, Tim didn't had any good clothes at hand, so when he finished and walked down to meet the visitors they were already waiting for him inside. There were at least three soldiers with Kings Bruce's emblem in the room, not that Tim managed see them much, because as soon as he arrived someone jumped from his seat and ran to hug him.

"Tim, it's been ages! How are you?"

"Dick?" Tim looked up at the other man, wide eyed. "I- how are you here?"

"You don't seem too happy to see me."

Dick pouted at Tim, but the effect didn't last long as neither of them could keep the smiles out of their faces. The older man had always been taller than Tim, but he seemed even taller with his armor and bright insignias. He was also one of the main reasons why Tim had missed living in the Royal Court so much.

"Heavens, Tim, you've grown so much!"

"I could say the same! I see you finally joined the army?"

"Ah, that's right! I have so much to tell you!"

They took a seat next to the window and Dick jumped into an explanation of everything that had happened to him since the last time they had talked, around the time when Tim started living on the castle.

Tim had always admired Richard Grayson, King Bruce's protegé, for all that they had only met a dozen of times on their lives. Dick had always been protective of Tim whenever they had spent time together on the capital, he was intelligent and charming, and Tim had always thought that he would inherit the throne one day.

Of course, as the years passed and Tim spend more time submerged in books about politics and history, he realized that Dick wasn't fit to be King, he wasn't even of blue blood, but that didn't make Tim admire him any less. As Dick kept talking about all the cities he had visited, the tensions between Gotham and the League, Tim drank each and everyone of his words, wishing Dick would never leave, or at least that he'd take Tim with him when he did. Tim had never wanted to join the army, but if he could go with Dick, he was sure it would be wonderful. After so long isolated from the world, he'd follow Dick anywhere. Dick only needed to ask.

"Ah, that reminds me-" Dick cut himself off abruptly, breaking the charm, and Tim suddenly noticed that the sun had started to go down. They had been talking -more like Dick talking and Tim listening enraptured- for longer than Tim had thought, but it seemed like Dick had just appeared on the sitting room a couple of minutes ago. "There's something important I have to tell you."

Dick's bright smile had melted away, but the determined look in his eyes seemed as enthralling to Tim as the easy talk from before. Dick motioned for the soldiers to go away as he got closer to Tim.

"You'll see, the ambassador from the League... there's a rumour in the court saying that he might be Bruce's son."

Tim's breath caught in his throat. That was... well, given the things that happened in the court, that was actually believable. Still, it was the kind of information people would kill for, and Tim had been away for too long to be able to just shrug it off.

"Is he?" he asked, scooting closer to Dick without even realizing.

"I don't know." Dick started biting his lip, and Tim needed a lot of concentration to listen to the next sentence. "But there has been some assassination attempts, and it's not like Bruce can send him back to the League."

"I see." Tim fumbled with the edge of his sleeves, feeling nervous. "But Dick, why are you telling this to me? If there's any way I can help, I'd love to, but, well..." He trailed off, realizing that Dick was suddenly beaming at him.

"I knew you'd say that, Tim!"

Tim looked warily at Dick, who had stood up and was walking towards the door. The guards were still outside the room, and Dick said something to them before returning to Tim.

"Alright, Tim, so as you can imagine, we needed some place for Damian to stay..."

"Damian?"

"The ambassador."

"No way."

"Eh?" Dick hadn't expected Tim to reject his petition, clearly, at least not before he made it.

"No, Dick, there's no way we can host an ambassador here! This is a small castle, and oh my God my parents are going to kill me."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, they don't have to know. Bruce has decided to consider him a prisoner of war until everything gets solved. So he's a servant now." Dick smiled like he was asking Tim to take care of a stray kitten he had found.

"Dick, that's not going to work..." but before Tim could finish the sentence, the door opened again and one of the soldiers pushed another person inside.

"Unhand me, you bastard!"

"Damian!" Dick had turned around, still smiling. "Look, this is Timothy Drake, you'll be serving in his house from now on..." Dick was standing between Tim and the ambassador, so Tim stood up and peeked from behind the older man's back. Damian...

Oh.

"Like hell I will!"

Damian was... he wasn't how Tim had expected an ambassador to look like. He couldn't be much older than Dick was. Though, of course, King Bruce was still young, but there was no way Tim could have been mentally prepared to see something like him. It was fortunate that Damian had started a shouting contest with Dick -it gave Tim time to just stand there and gape at him. He was wearing only a pair of black pants and a chain around his neck, and drops of sweat were trickling down his tanned skin, probably from waiting outside on the sun. He looked unlike any person Tim had ever seen before, but damn, Tim wanted to see more. Up close and personal. What had Dick said, servant, yes, Tim could definitely deal with having Damian as his servant. Please.

"Master Tim! What's happening?"

The commotion had attracted some of the guards of the castle to the room, and they were all standing at the door, staring at Damian just like Tim. Tim composed himself and grabbed Dick's arm. Dick looked at him, and sighed, patting lightly the hand that was touching him.

"I'm sorry, Tim, as you can see he hasn't taken too well his change of status."

"'Change of status'? You make it sound like it is mere bureaucracy, when this whole situation is an outrage!" Damian didn't have any right to keep looking that attractive with a scowl on his face. Dick waved a hand on Damian's direction, making Damian's scowl deepen, and kept looked at Tim.

"You think you can do it, Tim?"

Tim avoided looking at Damian, scared that he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if he spent another second following the trayect of the drops running down Damian's abs. Instead, he pasted on his face something that he hoped would look like an innocent smile and looked directly at Dick's worried eyes.

"Of course, Dick, I really needed a personal servant anyways!" Had he said that out loud? He totally had. He could just hope that Damian's yells had drowned the last part of the sentence.

"Like hell I will be your servant, it is you who should be cleaning my chambers. Who are you, anyways? Some useless third rate noble, in some miserable part of the kingdom that nobody ever wants to go to-"

Damian's attitude had room for improvement, definitely. Tim looked around the room and his eyes found the guard who told him about Dick's arrival. The man was talking with another two and one of Dick's soldiers, and finally he spoke, interrupting Damian's tirade.

"You can't talk like that to Master Timothy, boy. You are coming with us to the dungeons."

Damian turned around to face him, and Tim had a hard time taking his eyes off his backside. Damian seemed to doubt for a moment what to do, but he didn't fight when the guards approached him.

"Well, given the state of this castle, I bet I will not find any difference between the dungeons and any other room." He batted one of the guards' hands away, instead walking towards the door without any prompting. When the door closed after them, Dick left out a long sigh.

"I'm really sorry about that, Tim. He's usually nicer, I promise."

"Don't worry about that, Dick, it's not your fault." Tim realized absently that Dick was clasping his shoulder, his eyes still fixated on the door. "I'll manage."

"Thanks, Tim, you are the best."

When Tim looked at Dick, he was smiling again, and the tension in the room seemed to lift somehow. Dick's smile was contagious, and Tim found himself mirroring it.

"Hey, will your parents be here for dinner? I'd like to pay my respects. Though I'd prefer if you didn't tell them much about Damian. The rumors, I mean..." Dick trailed off.

"Oh, you don' have to worry about that. They won't be back until after the New Year." Dick's expression froze when he heard that.

"What? But that's like, six months away!"

"Yes, I'm the one who takes care of all the administration since a couple of years ago so they spend a lot of time traveling lately." Tim frowned slighty. "I think they were visiting Krypton, but I'm not completely sure."

"Oh, God... How can they...?" Dick huffed and grabbed Tim's shoulders, looking at him directly. "Tim, are you sure you can deal with Damian? I have complete faith in you, but I don't want to put you in any danger. He's not an easy person, you know, and he's really upset about this whole thing."

"Don't worry, Dick, seriously." Damian, even with all this attitude and the cursing, was still the best thing that had happened to Tim since he and his parents left the Royal Court. And Tim wasn't going to let him get away just like that. The smile he gave to Dick this time was genuine. "I'll manage."


	2. Of jam and clothes

The dungeon hadn't been used recently. Damian had seen his own fair share of prisons, but even if he hadn't the wine and jam stored in his cell would have given it away. Either the crime rate was ridiculously low or the administration was a disaster. Neither of these options were really appealing to Damian. He was probably going to be used as a cautionary tale for the population.

Damian's mood sunk as the sun descended in the sky, and as shadows finished flooding the cellar barely ten minutes later the gravity of the situation hit him. He had been in denial since the guards took him out of his chambers in the castle, and the whole travel there with the King's protegé didn't change it. Richard hadn't treated him as a prisoner, he never treated anybody differently after all, now, Damian was a servant at the hands of some spoiled lord. Who he had insulted. Back at his home, any peasant who had insulted him would have surely been executed. Damian could only hope that Richard wouldn't allow them to kill him, at least not while he was still there.

Maybe Damian would be able to escape before he left. At the moment, though, there wasn't much he could do, not without being able to see even his own hands in the dark. Instead, he took a deep breath and sat against a wall, trying to calm down. The cold stone was a relief after the whole day under the sun without even being allowed to wear a shirt. Damn Richard managed to look perfectly dapper even when wearing his armor. The Lord seemed to be pretty, too, even if Damian had only seen him for a second. Annoyed, Damian pushed that thought away. He hated the Lord, he hated the King, he even hated Richard a bit in that moment, and he missed his bed. It had been a long day, riding a horse since before dawn -how could Richard manage it, seriously- and he hadn't been getting much sleep the last days, without a bed and with the temperatures of this time of the year. The weather now that they were up North was quite refreshing, and the feel of the stone was quite relaxing. Before he realized it, his eyelashes were dropping and he was fast asleep.

* * *

It was already morning when Damian woke up at the sound of yelling outside his cell. He had overslept. He knew he had been tired, but with how uncomfortable he was he had hoped to wake up before dawn. Richard would have left already.

"…not even a bed, this is no way to…"

Damian had heard that voice before, but he wasn't able to link it to a face right away. His brain didn't seem to be working properly, anyways. The reflection of the sun in the glass of the jars was hurting his eyes. He stood up, closing his eyes, and tried to clear up his head, and suddenly the voice was right before him.

"Are you alright?"

When he turned around Damian had to resist the urge to groan. It was the Lord. Of course it was, such was Damian's luck. He had only heard him speak once and he had been even more tired that he was then, so it was no surprise.

"Yes, of course, I had a wonderful night. Thanks for your magnificent accommodations. Such a lowly servant like me does not deserve such attentions."

There. Even if his voice was dripping with sarcasm, there wouldn't be any arguments to make his situation worse. The Lord scrunched his nose and looked around Damian's cell without replying -he seemed even younger than before, and Damian refused to find the gesture cute. Instead he wondered what was such a kid doing, owning so many lands on his own. Since the Lord didn't seem to be too interested or angry at him at the moment, Damian decided it would be a good moment to ask him.

"Did Richard leave the castle already?"

The Lord looked at him again, but soon he was staring at the jam again. It was making Damian feel uneasy, but he wasn't in a situation to confront the other man over something like that.

"Yes, he left before dawn. Did you want to say wish him a good journey or something?" Since Damian didn't reply, the Lord continued. "I'm sorry, I didn't remember the dungeons were in this state."

"Tt. Why are you apologizing to me?" The words were out of his mouth before Damian had fully processed them.

"I- well-" The Lord cleared his throat and looked up at Damian, a hopeful expression in his eyes that made Damian feel even more uncomfortable. "I think we started off on the wrong foot. My name is Timothy Drake."

Timothy was smiling at him from the other side of the bars, and Damian just wanted to shake him. Proper Lords should not act that way, specially not to servants -even if it still hurt Damian to think of himself as such- and specially not to servants they had thrown in the dungeons the night before. Somehow, Damian managed to collect himself to ask him.

"What are you planning to do with me?"

The Lord seemed a bit taken aback at that question, and looked away blushing. Who in the world saw him and decided that it would be a good idea to put him on charge of anything?

"I'm not going to do anything! I actually do need a personal servant, you know, and you seem interesting but that doesn't mean anything of course, I just-"

"Then you are not going to execute me?"

"What?! Of course not, why would I do that?" Timothy looked genuinely horrified at the idea.

"I thought, well, I insulted you! The Lord of these lands! That would be the sensible thing to do!"

"First of all, I'm not the Lord, that's my father. I'm just taking care of everything while he's away. And second, I would never execute someone over something like that!" Timothy frowned and looked at him, unshed tears reflecting the light coming from the small window, but Damian was too enraged to pay attention to such thing.

"What kind of trick is this? There is no way you will let me go, not after such thing. You are following orders, right? What do you need to get? Information?" Damian snarled. "I would have thought that King Bruce could do it by himself, but I guess he did not want to get his palace stained with blood. Well, you will get nothing from me!"

Damian grabbed the bars of the cell and got as close as Timothy -who was decidedly shorter than him- as he could. To his surprise, instead of stepping back or squirming like men with too much power and not enough backbone often do, Timothy stood his ground and glared right back at him.

"I don't need anything from you. You come from far away and seemed like an interesting person, so I decided to give you a home like everybody living in my lands has. I don't know how they treat servants where you come from, but I'm going to keep doing things my way." Damian realized that a couple of guards stood now at the back of the room, clearly after hearing the shouting. "My offer still stands, but you won't walk past this dungeon until you agree to behave like a civilized person."  
With that, he turned away from Damian and walked past the guards, who followed him upstairs, and soon Damian was again alone between the wine and the jam.

Soon after that, the guards from before arrived carrying what seemed to be a straw mattress and some food. They opened the cell to get it inside, and since Damian was still unarmed and outnumbered he didn't try anything. The guards left without a word, and as soon as they were completely out of sight Damian sank down in the mattress and let out a long sigh. It was better than he had expected -specially since he hadn't actually been expecting any mattress at all- and he had actually gotten more food that he could eat in one meal, but Damian wasn't going to start trusting Lord-but-not-really Timothy. He hadn't even seen a single rat in the whole day he had spent there.

Damian kept feeling that Timothy was hiding something from him, but the whole situation was too surreal for him. Maybe the man was really just a weak ruler, a mere weakling in a good situation. He didn't seem like it, somehow, but it was the only option that made any kind of sense, so Damian had to go with it. If that was the case, he could probably take advantage of it, too. It wasn't like he had anything to lose, anyways.

"Guard!"

A second later, he heard movement outside the room and the door in the opposite wall opened. It was one of the guards who brought the mattress, glaring at him. Damian was used to get a good deal of glares every day so he didn't even blink at that. Instead, he got up the mattress and tried to look as contrite as he could without cracking up a smile.

"Tell Lord Timothy that I want to offer him my apologies for my behavior."

* * *

It was even more unbelievable that he had expected. Damian was lying on "his" bed, in "his" room, in the same section of the castle as Timothy's own chambers, and his only functions as the boy's "personal servant" for the day was to rest. Timothy had showed him around the castle, acting like he had completely forgotten Damian's outbursts, and now the sun was sinking down the horizon again. Timothy had already retired to his chambers. Nothing suspicious had happened, the guards weren't keeping an eye on him -at least, not when Timothy was looking- and it was a clear summer night.

As far as escape plans went, things couldn't look better for Damian.

The door opened easily and without any noise, his boots making practically no noise on the wood floor. Damian took a deep breath and stood still for a couple of minutes. There was no movement in the area. Soon he was walking across the halls, as fast as he could without alerting anybody. It was easy to find a way out the main building, especially after Timothy himself had been guiding him earlier, and he reached the courtyard without seeing anybody. The gates were closed, but Damian knew there were a couple more exits, and he could probably get a horse without problem. He also knew that the only guards were outside the walls, so now that he was outside and it was dark nobody would see him.

First things first; he wasn't going to travel all the way down South back to the League with just his pants and boots. He should probably get a shirt first, and food and maybe even money -it was clearly a prosperous area, they could spare some gold. Damian hated stealing, but at that moment getting back home was way more important that the Drake's properties. There was some clothing that needed to be repaired close to the kitchen, and Damian tried a couple of shirts on. However, the only one that didn't have some kind of hole was too small for him, and Damian was still rummaging though the chest when he heard steps in the gravel, way closer that he had expected.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Tim was behind him, carrying a bunch of white fabric in his arms and wearing sleep clothes. He was barefooted -Damian guessed that was the reason he hadn't hear him approaching- and clearly upset.

"How did you find me?"

Damian wondered if Timothy had been tracking him since he left his room. It seemed improbable, but how probable was it to be caught by the Lord himself instead of by some guard? Now he would need to start again from zero. He would probably end in the dungeon again.

"I went to your room to bring you some new clothes, after I remembered you hadn't changed them since your arrival, and I found it empty. It wasn't too difficult to guess where would you be. Was your situation here that terrible, that you would rather risk your life than to remain here for another day?" Timothy threw the clothes to Damian. "What are you planning to do? A prisoner of war crossing the whole kingdom on his own, you'll only get killed! If you are that desperate to leave, I'll gladly help you, I don't want to keep anybody here against their will! I just hoped we could be friends, you didn't need to lie to me. But if you hate me so much, take everything you need and go, I'm not going to stop you."

Damian didn't know what to say, and still didn't when Timothy let out a defeated sigh and looked away. He didn't actually hate him. Timothy hadn't done anything wrong in all the time Damian had known him.

And he was right: Damian hadn't thought this through, at all. He didn't have anything planned after leaving the castle, and the castle was probably the safest place for him at the moment. He should stay, Timothy said he would help him go back to the League, and until that moment he hadn't lied even once to him, Damian realized. As much as he hated admitting being wrong, it was the right thing to do. Timothy was still in front of him, arms crossed and looking at the floor. Damian left the clothes on top of the chest he had been registering earlier, and taking a deep breath he started speaking.

"I am… sorry." Timothy lifted his head when he heard Damian's voice, but his expression didn't change. "I did not want you to think that I hate you. I just want to return home. But you are right. I would not succeed like this." It was even harder to speak now that Timothy was looking at him, but Damian forced himself to continue. Telling the truth was harder that he had anticipated, but there were worse ways to pay for his mistakes. "If you help me return home, I will remain here and obey your orders until then. Please forgive me."

Timothy didn't reply, and Damian was about to speak again when the other man uncrossed his arms and looked at Damian in the eye again.

"I'm tired. We can talk about it tomorrow. If you are still lying and plan to leave tonight anyways, grab anything you'll need, I'm not going to stop you. I'd prefer if you didn't, though." Timothy stiffled a yawn and turned around, starting to walk towards the castle.

"I am not going to-"

"Damian, I just want to go to sleep now."

Damian grabbed the clothes again and followed Timothy back inside the building, noticing that Timothy was limping a bit, his feet clearly not used to walking barefooted. He had ran after Damian without caring about his own well being.

Damian chose not to say anything, but all the doubts he had about Timothy's sincerity had disappeared without him actually realizing, and he couldn't shake the uneasiness he was feeling now away. Not after Timothy closed the door to his chambers again, not after arriving at his own room, and he knew as he fell asleep that he wouldn't be able to forget the disappointment on Timothy's face for a long time.


	3. Of ointments and tickles

Tim was actually quite proud of the fact that he had managed to avoid checking on Damian every other hour -because as much as he had said that he wouldn't mind letting the other boy run away, Tim didn't actually want to do so. He tried to tell to himself that he didn't care about what happened to Damian anymore, but the truth was that, even after their fights, Tim still hoped that they would manage to develop some kind of relationship, even if it never become a real friendship.

At the same time, Damian hadn't done anything suspicious either. He just followed Tim most of the time. He would also spend a lot of time staring at Tim's feet. Tim was still limping, and the fact that it was caused for having run after Damian without thinking actually made him feel embarrassed. He'd rather if Damian hadn't even noticed his injuries -they were just a couple of cuts that would be cured in a week or two. The important thing was that Damian wasn't going planning to go anywhere, or so it seemed. Not that Tim was watching him, of course.

After a couple of days, somehow things settled into a routine. Damian would follow him around, help with simple tasks and -to Tim's disappointment- keep the same distance from him that all the others servant always did. No chatting, no joking, and of course no becoming friends. That was the reason why, after a couple of days, and even if he had decided not to pay attention to Damian, Tim found himself trying to start a conversation with him.

In his defense, the book Tim had picked that day talked about fertilizer -when had he even gotten it?- and he felt like he wouldn't be able to read another page without losing his mind.

"Did you use to read, when you... before?"

Admitedtly that wasn't the smoothest way to start -"before you were forced into serfdom", way to go, Tim-, but at least it was something. It got Damian to actually look at him from his spot next to the door.

"Like stories? I have never appreciated such cheap entertaiment." Damian shrugged. "I would read the reports and messages related to my work on the court, never books, but even if I had wanted I would not had time to read them."

"Ah, of course, I guess there are more things going on over the court..."

Tim gave a small smile to Damian, who was staring at him with a completely neutral expression. The stare gave Tim goosebumps, and he couldn't avoid feeling inferior, even if Damian was his servant, when he thought about the life Damian was used to. With a sigh, he turned the page over, and a couple of minutes passed without anybody speaking.

"I would not be adverse to it, if you wished me to join you in your reading, though."

"Oh." Tim wondered for a moment if he really was that easy to read, or if Damian actually wanted to join him. He was probably bored from just sitting and waiting for something to happen. Tim found that in either case he didn't care. "Then I think you might enjoy this one..."

He could felt Damian's eyes the whole time he was giving his back to him, searching through the piles in the work table. Still, Tim jumped in surprise when he turned around and saw Damian standing way closer that he had anticipated. Damian said nothing, though the corners of his lips twitched, and Tim looked away back to the table while handing him the book. He didn't need to think about Damian's lips anymore than he did already.

"It's about the most recent deeds of King Bruce's army, Dick sent it to me a while ago." It was one of Tim's favorite books, due to the source and the book itself, though Damian didn't need to know that. It was clear that Damian wasn't interested in that one there was no way he would care about any other in Tim's collection.

"Thank you." Damian took the book with surprising care from Tim's hands and turned away to walk back to his chair. Tim fidgeted for a moment before speaking again.

"Yeah, um, you can come read by the window if you want, too. The lightning over there is quite bad."

Damian seemed surprised by Tim's suggestion, but he sat next to Tim in the bench without saying anything. For some time, both kept reading in silence together. At least Damian seemed to be reading; Tim was way too distracted to concentrate. The shirt that Damian was wearing was a bit too tight for him, and Tim was sure that the older man had taken some kind of bath recently. There was no other way he could smell so nicely, like some kind of spice, instead of the dust and sweat that everybody else working in the castle seemed to smell like.

It was a completely rational observation about Damian's customs, though, nothing weird on noting that. Tim wasn't paying him extra attention or anything. And the fact that he hadn't read a single page even since Damian sat next to him had nothing to do with it. The book was really boring. Tim hadn't managed to turn his attention back to the book when Damian spook again.

"I am sorry about your injuries."

Tim didn't know how to reply to that. It was enough that Damian had noticed his feet, but that he would present his apologies, without even a mention from Tim's part, was completely unexpected. Damian's voice didn't give anything away, though, but Tim noticed that he wasn't reading anymore.

"It is my fault that you got hurt, and I wish to repay you somehow."

"There's no- Damian, I acted on my own will, nobody else needs to take responsibility for my actions..."

"I insist. Please let me help."

It was clear that Damian wasn't going to accept a negative, and Tim found himself nodding without even knowing what he was agreeing to. Damian nodded once, too, looking satisfied, and deposited the book on the table before leaving the room without a word. Saying that Tim was confused would be an understatement, but he kept reading next to the window, definitely not thinking about Damian's voice, or how could Damian's help go.

Damian returned some time later and neither he nor Tim mentioned his offer again, so Tim had practically forgotten about the scene after dinner, when he was getting ready to sleep. His clothes were simple enough not to require any help to take off, so Damian never went to his room at that time, usually just saying goodnight at the door. That day, however, as Tim finished folding his day clothes, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is there?" Tim asked. He hoped it wasn't any kind of emergency. Damian wouldn't try to leave again so soon, would he?

"Damian."

"Oh, come in."

Damian entered the room, one hand holding the door open and the other carrying some kind of wooden container. Tim straightened his sleep robes, feeling suddenly self conscious, but managed not to fidget as Damian approached.

"This is a medicine my mother taught me to prepare, it will soothe your wounds."

"Ah, thank you."

Trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach, Tim held his hand out and waited for Damian to pass him the bowl. Damian, however, kept it away.

"I should be the one to apply it."

"What?" Tim had to admit that the word came out with a higher pitch that he would have wished.

"Your injuries are in the sole of your feet, and while you could apply it by yourself it would be faster and less complicated if I did it." Damian stepped closer to Tim's bed, and Tim could swear that he was laughing to himself.

"Oh, alright."

Tim obediently sat on his bed while Damian left the container on the nightstand. It wasn't that Tim wanted to be with Damian, on his bed, at night, playing with wet things -he really needed to stop having those thoughts-, but if Damian wanted to do something nice for him, well, he definitely wasn't going to say no.

Still he couldn't stop his mind from wandering off, and the first touch of the cold ointment on his skin surprised him, making him squeak and retire the foot from Damian's reach. Damian was staring at him wide eyed, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and Tim, mortified, let his foot drop again on Damian's lap.

"Please do not do that again, my Lord." Damian still looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"I'm not a Lord, I told you." Tim was definitely not pouting. "And don't worry, I won't."

The part of Tim's mind that should have remembered that Tim was ticklish on his feet had been obviously occupied in more exotic thoughts and now Tim was paying the price. Damian was being really thorough in the application of the ointment, making sure it'd get absorbed but with enough care not to hurt Tim more. Tim, on his part, could do little more than try to avoid squirming as much as possible. He wasn't sure if Damian was noticing this, but in the complete silence surrounding them it was getting harder to avoid making any sound, so he tried to make some conversation.

"Did you enjoy the book?"

"Yes, it is interesting." Damian didn't stop moving his hands or looked at Tim. "I would appreciate if you allowed me to keep reading it some other-"

"Yes, of course!" Tim interrupted Damian so as to repress a giggle. "What did you think of the comments to the treaty with Krypton?"

"I- They seemed mostly correct, although they forgot to mention the importance of-" Tim let out a small laugh. "The importance of- Why are you laughing?"

Tim cleared his throat and composed himself as well as he could.

"I'm not laughing, Damian, you must have misheard."

"...you are ticklish."

"I am most definitely not."

Damian, instead of answering, brushed with a finger the spot from before, and Tim, even being completely aware of the situation, couldn't avoid letting out a small giggle. Frowning, Tim looked away and retired both feet from Damian's lap, and Damian's mouth tightnened, a glint in his eyes.

"I am not ticklish, Damian. Don't you even dare to suggest it."

"I would never dare, Timothy."

Tim frowned, but before he could say anything else Damian stood up and picked up the bowl.

"There is no more ointment left; I shall prepare more for tomorrow.I hope your feet will feel better in the morning. Have a good night."

"Ah. Goodnight, Damian."

Just as Damian was about to close the door, Tim mumbled a 'thank you' and blew out the candles on the nightstand. Damian didn't try to say anything else -for all Tim knew, he might not have even heard him- so he slipped under the covers, noticing that his feet didn't hurt anymore when they brushed against the fabric. Soon he was asleep, and that night, it was Damian's amused face and almost-smile what flooded Tim's dreams.


	4. Of dreams

The room was dark, and Tim felt like he hadn't even fallen asleep yet. But something wouldn't let him relax. Sitting up, he looked at the shadows and realized that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Damian?"

Damian didn't reply, walking closer to the bed instead, and even with only the moonlight Tim could see that there was even more skin visible that he had seen on the first day. Tim hoped that the lack of light would hide his blush somehow.

"What are you doing here? Do you need something?"

Feeling self conscious, Tim tried to cover himself with the sheets and realized that he wasn't wearing his sleep robe anymore.  
Damian didn't seem bothered by that fact, though, and he climbed onto the bed, covering Tim's body with his own. Tim lied down again and tried not to squirm when he felt Damian's breath on his face.

"There is no need to worry about anything, Timothy." Damian spoke in a low tone that make Tim's hair stand on end. "I will take care of you."

A tanned hand grabbed the sheet -the only thing separating them now- and released it from Tim's weak hold. Tim's breath hitched as Damian pressed a kiss to his neck and-

-suddenly the sun was entering through the window and Damian wasn't there. But Tim's sleep robe was, and in need of a wash. With a groan, Tim took it off, shaking his head to get rid of the last remains of his dream. It was going to be hard -harder- to look at Damian in the eye that day. One thing was clear: Tim was going to wash his sheets by himself.


	5. Of baskets and violence

When Tim got out the main building and arrived at the courtyard, Damian was already there waiting for him. It was a nice morning, colder than the usual for the time of the year, and Damian was in fact wearing a light jacket, his back resting against the stone of the entrance walls. As soon as Tim saw what he was carrying, he hurried over.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." Damian awknowledged his presence with a nod. "The cooker told me to give you this, I do not know-" He lifted the wooden basket and stared at Tim, waiting for an explanation.

"It's food." Tim smiled. "I remembered I've never shown you around the castle, so I thought we could get out for today and have lunch somewhere."

"Oh." Damian let his arm drop again and moved his head slighty in what Tim guessed was a shrugh. "That sounds acceptable."

"Great." Tim started walking towards the gate, the sound of his boots against the gravel being the only thing that broke the silence in the early morning, and Damian followed him shortly after.

The road was empty, too soon for anybody to want to walk to the castle, and Tim was able show what little there was to see to Damian without any trouble. Damian seemed almost interested in Tim's explanations, making some polite questions, and Tim had starting explaining the history and vegetation of the closest forest when they stopped for lunch on a hill.

In the silence while they both simply ate -Tim sitting in a blanket, Damian with his legs crossed in the grass- Tim took his time just watching Damian. The last few days had been nice. Damian was an interesting conversational partner, even if he was way more reserved that Tim had hoped, but it wasn't all that bad. He was still way too attractive -he had just discarded his jacket and it was impossible not to notice his physique- and Tim's mind kept getting blank whenever he remembered the dreams he was having. Ignoring that, Tim's life in the castle was as good as it had ever been.

The day only got better when Tim saw the cart in the road, a couple hundred yards away. His talk about the summer festival in the neighboring village died on his lips, and with a jump he stood up. Squinting to see better, he confirmed his supicions and, not being able to keep the grin off his face, he started putting some food back in the basket.

"Damian, pick everything up, we have to get back!"

The merchant was waiting in the center of the courtyard when they arrived. Tim's feet felt lighter than usual, and Damian walked a couple of steps behind him, the size of the basket being probably the reason he didn't move any faster. It had been a while since Tim had last met the merchant -"the", because no other would come to the Drake's lands- but John appeared as obnoxious as always, yelling orders to random servants that would invariably ignore him. His cart, too, looked as it always did to Tim -promising, since John often brought books for Tim to buy.

"Well, look at that! You haven't grown at all since I last saw you, kiddo!"

Tim gave the merchant his most charming smile as he side eyed the cart. Books, there were definitely some books in there.

"Nice to see you again, John." Tim glanced at Damian, who was standing in the back and examining the merchant's appearance with mistrust. "Damian, go leave the basket in the kitchens please."

The merchant chuckled and patted Tim's arm.

"I don't think you should be giving orders like that, kid. Enough that they allow you to handle my mercancy, don't push it!"

Tim almost flinched at the touch and his smile faltered. but he managed to compose himself. Walking up to the cart, he lifted the parchment covering a corner, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the covers of the books.

"Do you have any more history books?" he asked, hopeful. It had been a while since he last bought one, and even longer since he got one in good state. "I only see more stuff about plants..."

The man stood next to him and lifted a couple of volumes, showing Tim the covers of the ones under them, and clicked his tongue.

"I guess the pics gave them away. Well, not like you have anything better, huh?"

Tim sighed. He had hoped for something more interesting, but the merchant was right: Tim didn't have anything better.

"The usual price, right?"

"Sure."

The man adjusted his pants with a grunt, and Tim tried to ignore it, turning instead to Damian, who was coming back without the basket.

"Help me carry those back inside while I pay."

Damian nodded and grabbed the pile -five new books. Admittedly, not the ones that Tim had been hoping for, but it was still a good deal. Satisfied, Tim opened the bag in his belt and started counting gold pieces.

"You can not be paying a gold piece for each of these." Damian was looking at Tim's hands over his shoulder, an horrified expression contrasting with the calm demeanor he had been showing recently.

"What do you care, boy?"

The merchant was snarling, and when he spoke some spit reached Tim's hands. Tim repressed a shiver, and instead of replying he wiped them discreetly with the fabric covering the cart, ignoring the conversation behind him for a second.

"This is a fraud, these books are not worth even half that amount."

"Well, no way I'm lowering the prize, it was hard enough to get them!" John seemed ready to hit Damian, the boy's bigger size being the only thing that was stopping him from doing so.

"Damian, leave it. I agreed to pay the prize and you won't question my decision."

Damian seemed taken aback for a moment by Tim's words, and Tim relaxed again. But then John spoke again.

"Yeah, _Damian_, what do you care? You're just a dirty servant and your place is with the manure, after all."

What happened next, happened almost too fast for Tim's eyes to register. In a second Damian had thrown John against the cart, startling also the horse, and the books flew to the ground.

"Damian! Stop!"

It wasn't that Damian didn't know how to control himself. He knew how to obey an order, he was as much of a soldier as he was of a noble. In fact, had spent more time with the League's army than in palaces or castles as a child.

Except that he wasn't a noble anymore, and he had, to a certain degree, forgotten.

It was more like like he hadn't have any reason to remember his status. His life in the Drake's castle wasn't all that different to what he was used to. A bit more boring, with more useless tasks, but nothing to remind him that he was worth nothing. He was just a guest for the most part.

And now that merchant had apparently decided that he needed to change that. He deserved what he got, of course, but Damian acted without thinking and without being aware of his surroundings.

That's how, when Damian was getting ready to deliver another punch, his fist connected with something that was definitely the merchant's face.

Tim yelped and stepped backwards, his hand clutching his ribs, and tripped over the merchant's leg, falling to the ground. Damian hadn't seen him get there and he stopped hitting John, starstruck for a moment. Some guards that had seen the altercation hurried over to restrain Damian while Tim scrambled to his feet, refusing any help. Tim crossed his arms and glared at him.

"I hope you have something to say, Damian."

"He was..."

Tim's robes and hair were now covered in dust, and the relaxed expression he had all the morning was definitely gone. Damian found himself missing it, somehow.

"I don't care about what he did." Tim said, and the guards started dragging Damian away. "If that's what you think that is the problem here, I don't care about anything else you have to say, either. I'll write Dick, and he'll get you some other Lord you can work under."

There was nothing Damian could say. He had hit his Lord.

He would never go back home.

"Wait-"

"He's spending the night in the dungeon. Bring him to the library tomorrow."

Without looking back, Tim started walking towards the main building, and Damian finally let the guards drag him back.

Tim stared out the window, his gaze fixed in a cloud up in the sky. He wasn't even trying to make it look like he was interested in the book on his lap. Damian would probably arrive soon, and Tim had to take a decision. He might have spoken too fast the day before, with the books and the fight, but Damian had been at fault. While he had never acted disrespectful in any other occasion, it was clear that he didn't consider himself a servant, and if that continued these kind of incidents would continue to happen. Tim couldn't allow that, specially when his parents finally arrived back home. Sending Damian to Dick seemed like the most logical option.

Tim then remembered the night in which Damian had tended his injuries and repressed a shudder. It wasn't like anything had changed. Damian still was good looking -that was an understatement-, interesting, and really nice when he wanted to be; it was Tim who didn't make everything clear enough. Dick would have wanted Tim to give him another chance, too. He just needed to change some things.

Feeling more secure, Tim stood up and went to the door to see if somebody was approaching. Nobody was there, but he could hear steps down the corridor, so he hurried himself back to the bench and opened the book again, doing his best to appear interesting when someone knocked at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and guard popped his head in.

"We brought Damian, Master Timothy."

"Oh, excellent. Bring him in and leave us alone."

The guard staggered for a second, but he let Damian enter. He was still wearing the same clothes that the day before, but they were now completely wrinkled, and his hair was dirtied. Tim was distracted checking Damian's appearance -as much as he deserved the night spent in the cellar Tim didn't want him to really have a bad time- and almost missed when the guard spoke again.

"I'm not sure it's appropriate-"

"I gave you an order." Tim frowned and the guard stopped talking. "You can wait outside."

"Of course, Master Timothy."

The guard bowed and without another word Tim and Damian were left alone in the room. After ten seconds of awkward silence Tim started regretting it. Trying not to fidget, he finally left the book in the table and crossed his arms.

"Do you have anything to say about what happened yesterday?"

Damian's expression was carefully guarded, and Tim noticed that his hands were tied at his back. For a moment he thought that Damian wasn't going to answer him.

"That man was being disrespectful to you, I just-"

"You didn't attack him because he was disrespectful to me." Tim's frown deepened. "And in any case, what he did doesn't matter; I gave you a direct order and you didn't obey it."

Damian looked away and didn't reply. Tim wasn't sure if it was due to shame or plain stubbornness, but he kept talking.

"Even more than that, thanks to you, I doubt I will be able to get any books from now on, overpriced or not. I'm not interested in listening to excuses."

"Well, why did you bring me here then?" Damian glared at Tim. "I never meant to hit you, you must know that, nor cause you any harm. But you already made up your mind and will send me away anyways, right?"

"I'm not-" Tim sighed lightly. "I'm not going to send you away, Damian." That made Damian's eyes to widen in surprise. "But you must learn to respect me. I'm not going to mistreat you or anything similar, but you are still my servant and you'll act as such."

"I- Yes, I shall."

"If something like this happens again, I won't hesitate on sending you away." Tim stood up. "If you behave yourself, however, my offer still stands: I'll help you cross the border and go back to the League. But you must fulfill your end of the bargain as well."

Damian nodded solemnly.

"I promise this will not happen again."

"Good." Tim walked around Damian and started untying him. "Get a change of clothes and go help in the kitchens. I will call you if I need anything."

"Understood."

Tim opened the door and dimissed the guards, Damian following them shortly after, and then Tim was back to reading alone. He wasn't going to check the window to see Damian when he went to the kitchens, and he definitely didn't notice the way his shirt clung to his back when he started lifting firewood. Because he wasn't even looking at the window.


	6. Of baths and problems

Damian got used to life in the castle -for a second time. The days had been getting colder, although he seemed to be the only one to notice it. Because of that, he tried to spend some more time in the sun -he would miss it in winter, Drake's lands were even more up North than the Court after all. However, he didn't have a lot of time to do so: Tim had made good of his words, and Damian actually had to work now. He was supossed to follow both the head of the kitchens and the leader of the guard, and while none of his chores were especially extenuating -carring some stuff here and there, cleaning some rooms- they were servant-like enough to make Damian uncomfortable. He didn't have any choice, though, so he obeyed everything and tried to gain Tim's approval back.

Because even if neither of them had mentioned the fight again, Tim was obviously still upset with him. Damian hadn't even stepped foot inside the reading room again, not while Tim was there. None of the servants of the castle tried to bully Damian, and he didn't get in any disagreement with them, but they were complete peasants and they were making Damian feel more alone that he had ever since he had to left the court. He hated to admit it, even if it was just to himself, but he missed Tim.

Back in the Court, Damian was never alone. There were always soldiers and artists to talk to, people looking for his approval. Here? He was just ignored, if not despised by anybody from a higher class. Tim had been the only one who be interested in him, personally -Dick had always been nice, but he was the same for everybody. Damian doubted Dick ever thought about him. But Tim, Tim was definitely interested, he even seemed to like him. He had wanted to be friends with Damian, and Damian was missing everything now.

And he felt like he had no place to hope, but there was a chance that Tim missed him, too. Damian kept stealing glances in his direction whenever he saw him, trying to check if the other boy would look back at him, but he was always too busy to try to get close. It was unbelievable. At that rate, Tim would forget about him, and when the time arrived for Tim to fulfill his promise he might have completely erased Damian from his thoughts.

It wasn't an every day thing that Damian went to talk to Tim. In fact, at least for the lastest weeks, Damian hadn't seem interested to talk to him at all. Tim tried to tell to himself that Damian was just busy, that servants didn't have time for iddle chatter. But whenever he saw the other man practically running in the opossite direction his heart clenched a bit. Could he really be that busy?

Maybe Tim wasn't being completely rational, but he couldn't stop feeling that Damian didn't want anything to do with him. Well, Tim had put him to work, but he didn't have any choice! Although it was true that Damian was supposed to be his personal servant, and instead he was sweeping the floors and washing the dishes… Could he be offended? He wasn't used to that -in fact, he didn't even deserve that. Damian didn't deserve to be a servant, even if it was necessary.

Or maybe he just didn't want to stay with Tim. It wasn't too far fetched: if Tim was him he probably wouldn't want to, either.

Either case, things couldn't stay that way. Tim couldn't stop thinking about Damian -it was becoming almost normal at that point- and he had to do something about it. At least he could try to turn him into his actual personal servant, instead of letting others give him orders. Tim wasn't used to ordering people around directly in a daily basis, and specially not about anything related to his personal comfort, but doing such would mean that Damian would have to spend time with him, right? And Tim could keep his authority, it was clearly the best option.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself when he left his room that morning to look for Damian. As he had expected, Tim found him carrying a bucket to the well in the courtyard, busy as always, but that time it didn't deter him.

"Damian. Come here." he said, trying to sound as autoritative as possible. Damian didn't seem too impressed, though, and he got to the well, leaving the buckets in the ground before pausing and turning to Tim.

"What do you need?"

Tim frowned. This was going to be even harder that he anticipated. Well, he wasn't going to go back now.

"I want you to come here."

Damian, to his surprise, didn't reply -instead just looking away as he walked up to almost wanted to jump from the excitement -he had given a proper order and it hadn't ended in a fight! Actually he had no idea of what was he doing. In fact, he didn't even know what was he going to tell Damian to do.

"Um, so. How are you doing? I haven't seen you much around lately…" Abort, abort, you can't let him know you are pining, Tim. "What have you been doing?"

"Working."

"All right." Sweat started to appear on Tim's forehead, and his clothes felt heavy. He had no idea of what he was going to do next. The sun was kinda hot, wasn't it? "I need a bath."

"Should I prepare it?" Damian frowned and eyed the well before Tim could react. It had been a slip, it wasn't supossed to be an order! "Do you require warm water?"

"No, I just- well, normal water would suffice, but from the river is better. We need the well for cooking and that, everybody washes themselves at the river. Well I don't because my parents never thought it proper so I have a basin up there but I didn't-"

He was babbling now. Great. And Damian was just nodding and probably laughing at Tim's distress.

"I will go to the river then. It should not take long, please wait for me."

And with a short nod he turned away. Was he seriously going to…? Well, Tim had gotten what he wanted: he had managed to speak with Damian and make him spend time with Tim. Wouldn't it be nice if he was willing to spend time with him without Tim making him. On the other hand, Damian had been perfectly polite and distant, all the camaraderie from a weeks before completely gone. It wasn't much different that speaking to any of the other servants. Although that was probably Tim's fault alone, but he had still hoped that Damian would act closer than everybody else.

Well, they had just exchanged a couple of sentences, Tim could still do something about it. Straightening his robe, he marched back to his room. There had to be something he could do, he was sure if it.

Now he just needed to stop thinking about Damian, alone with him in a room for the first time in weeks. Giving Tim a bath. It was fortunate that he had asked for cold water.

Damian didn't know what to do with himself when he arrived to Tim's bedroom. The door was closed, and he had both hands occupied with the buckets he was carrying -he'd need to make more than one travel, that's for sure, but he didn't want to make any more that he needed- but not knowing how to open the door wasn't the matter. He was… glad, actually, that Tim had spoken to him again, but he wasn't sure of how to act around him anymore. Before he could decide anything, though, Tim had opened the door and was looking up at him, a nervous smile on his face.

"Oh, hi Damian. I didn't expect you so soon. Leave the water there, I'll need some more still…"

Tim trailed off and pointed to a big empty basin that had been moved to the room. His demeanor seemed completely different that that morning, and more similar to what Damian had known until yet. Damian let out a breath and relaxed slightly. Tim didn't say anything else, instead turning around and looking through a chest -for what Damian could see, it contained just clothes. Damian went to empty the buckets and after a couple more of seconds in silence he went back to the door again.

"I will be back soon."

With a curt nod, Damian left the room. He couldn't stop noticing how Tim was still completely dressed, and Damian wondered if that was because he didn't want to wait for Damian naked…

When he reached that thought, he tripped and almost fell downstairs, completely losing his train of thought. Suddenly the day didn't seem so cold as it had a couple of minutes ago.

Tim, yes. It was either that scene that Damian was definitely not picturing in his head -he might be starting to feel attracted to Tim, but his judgement was not to be clouded by something that shallow- or that he expected Damian to remove his clothing.

Damian tripped again. This whole affair clearly wasn't good for his health. Damn, he had seen dozens of naked men and women in his live -in more or less intimate situations-, he wasn't going to lose his mind over a bath now!

Without barely noticing he had reached the stream again, and hurrying back to the castle was definitely easy. Not that he was hurrying. He was just being practical in the completion of his task.

When he arrived back to the room, Damian found Tim still definitely not naked. Instead, he was wearing what seemed to be a nightgown -Damian guessed he had been wearing that under his robes- and was bare footed. Tim glanced up at him for a moment before looking away again.

"Ah, that was fast."

Not knowing what to reply, Damian just poured the buckets in the basin. With the current amount of water, he guessed that it'd reach the borders of the basin when Tim got in, so he stood there waiting for more orders.

"Alright, thank you Damian. You can leave now." Tim was waiting by the bed, adjusting his sleeves.

"Are you sure?" Damian briefly wondered if it was some kind of test. If there was something he knew about personal servants, is that this was exactly the kind of thing they were for. Would he be back to cleaning the stables if he didn't prove himself good enough for it?

"Well, there's no need to-"

"It might be dangerous, you might slip in the water, and it will be faster if I can assist you." Damian frowned, putting the buckets away and going to close the window. It was enough that the water was cold, and no proper servant would allow their Lord to catch a cold for something like that.

"Ah. Well, alright."

Tim seemed even more nervous than before, and Damian hoped he hadn't offended him by suggesting he couldn't bathe on his own. But he had experience with Tim being angry, and this wasn't it -he had accepted after all-, so he went back to Tim. After some hesitation, Damian kneeled and grabbed the hem of the cloth.

"Please allow me-"

"W-what are you doing?!" Tim stepped away so fast he had almost fell over the bed, leaving Damian completely at loss.

"I was just helping you take it off…"

He wasn't able to even continue explaining himself with Tim's horrified expression. Damian wasn't meant for this. He didn't know how to be a good personal servant: he hadn't even had one of his own. His mother always thought of it as a sign of weakness and decadence and deemed them completely unnecessary. Damian wasn't complaining, but he'd appreciate having some example to work with.

"Why would you take it off?"

"Because you are taking a bath?" Damian didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but he'd like to know what was going on.

"But I bathe with this on!"

"Why would you bathe dressed?"

They stared at each other for a few moments -Tim completely red, Damian still kneeling to his feet.

"Um, I think this was a misunderstanding." Tim cleared his throat and looked away, going back to fidget with his sleeves. "Damian, here people only get naked if they need a doctor or for, you know…" Tim trailed off, getting even redder -Damian didn't think it was possible. "So, I'll get in the basin like this, if that's ok."

"Oh, I… did not know." How could he now have known?! He had seen Dick bathe once… but the older man was always pretty open with his nudity. He was probably an exception. Damian should have guessed he was an exception. "I apologize."

"Not your fault." Tim mumbled, straightening his robe.

Damian stood up and walked to the basin with Tim, being careful not to stare at him. Definitely not disappointed about not getting to see him naked. He offered his arm for support as Tim got in -as he had guessed, the water reached just an inch short from the edge- and he had no idea what else was he supossed to do. Tim shivered, probably from the water's temperature, but he didn't flinch away from the cold or made any signal that he wanted to get out.

"Damian, grab the bucket and help me pour some water on my head."

"Alright." Shrugging internally, Damian did as he was told, and Tim's not quite curls soon were plastered against his forehead.

And the soaked cloth was clinging to his skin in a way that did things to Damian's insides.

It was transparent enough -too transparent-, and the water level at the right height for Damian to be able to see all the way down to Tim's belly button.

Next time he went to take the bucket, Damian was so distracted he hit his hand against it a couple of times before he managed to grab it. Fortunately, Tim was too busy getting his bangs out of his face to notice it -he was shivering a bit more now, the contrast of the wet skin with the air too cold even with the window closed. His nipples were making themselves visible through the cloth too, the nubs logically reacting at the cold temperature -and Damian's pants were making themselves uncomfortable. Tim had no right to be that well built when he spent most of his time locked in with his books.

"I think that'll be enough."

Damian, fearing that his voice would sound strangled, didn't reply, instead just standing up and offering Tim his hand again. Tim's arm was surprisingly warm, in contrast with the cold water dripping from his clothes, and Damian had to concentrate as to not let his eyes wander down. As soon as Tim was out of the basin, Damian picked up the buckets -it wasn't easy to look casual while covering your groin with just you hands- and stepped away.

"Do you need anything else?" Not as high pitched as he would have expected, good.

Tim looked at the puddle that was forming on the floor and kept shivering lightly, apparently not noticing anything.

"Thank you, Damian. That'll be all." Tim said, dimissively, and with another nod Damian was practically running to his bedroom, not even thinking to give the buckets back to the well. He had other bigger problems at hand.


	7. Of sausages and business

Breakfast at the castle was, at least from Damian's point of view, weird. He had never seen people eat such things so early in the morning. The sausages were definitely not something he would recommend, specially not the spicy ones they prepared at the village but… somehow, he couldn't object to see Tim eating them.

So while breakfast was weird, it was still enjoyable enough for Damian not to think about what he was eating -at least not too much. It was one of those mornings, where Tim would nibble on bread distractedly while Damian tried to eat all the warm food available -how had it gotten so cold so fast?- and sneak glances at him.

It was kind of nice and peaceful, and if there was something Damian wasn't expecting was for a soldier to open the door and announce that the Lord and the Lady of the castle had arrived. Although it was Damian's fault for not expecting it; nice things like that could never last.

But it couldn't be. Timothy said he'd have at least a couple of months before their arrival! Maybe they missed their son. Given Tim's expression, though, that didn't seem likely: it wasn't the kind of expression one would imagine on people who was about to me somebody who they had missed dearly. In fact, Damian had started to feel on edge before Tim seemed to process the guard's words. Finally, Tim looked up.

"Damian, you can finish eating here. I'm going to meet them."

Without another word, Tim followed the soldier to -Damian guessed- the main room where they'd met for the first time.

Damian didn't know what was going to happen to him now, but it was clearly something neither Tim nor him were prepared for, and he didn't like the sound of that. It wasn't like Damian had a lot to pack before leaving, but if their plans had changed maybe they'd want to go to the court right away. Before Tim managed to convince them to take Damian with them.

Although even if their relationship with Tim was cold, there was no way they'd leave right away. They hadn't seen their son in almost a year! Damian sighed and poked his sausage with the knife, allowing himself to glower at it while he was alone. He probably wouldn't be there for much longer. He wasn't even sure he'd be allowed to remain as Tim's servant until Tim's parents left, or even speak to him. Tim was clearly satisfied with their current arrangement, but who knew if his parents would accept it. If Tim thought they'd support it, why would he be so tense?

He wasn't going to be able to eat his sausage worrying like that, specially if there was no Tim to distract him. Preposterous and inedible northerner breakfast.

Tim arrived soon to the room where his parents were waiting and stood on the door for a minute before anybody noticed his presence. Finally, his father looked up from the table they were sitting at, and smiled tightly. Jack Drake, Lord of the castle. Most servants probably didn't even remember his face.

"Tim! It's good to see you. How have things been around here?"

They both looked exactly as Tim remembered: mostly healthy, with their skins slightly tanned from all the time outside, and neither of them were really paying attention at Tim. Tim often found himself wondering how would his life be if he spent more time with them, but as soon as they were in the same room together, he stopped wanting to. He always missed them, but once they were there and Tim realized how little things changed it was even worse.

"Father, mother, how did you get here so soon?"

Tim's father blinked, surprised by the change of topics, but his mother was unfazed.

"The matter why we travelled to Krypton's court resolved itself sooner than expected."

Tim took a breath, still hoping to manage to appear calm. Did that mean that they were leaving sooner than expected, too? Well, that was just great. Except that it meant that Tim would be alone again, and he had been preparing himself, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Damian had been his only company -the only thing going on in his life- for a while, and Tim had hoped for at least a couple of months more with him. Of course, his parents had always been coming and going as they pleased, and if Tim made a scene because of Damian they'd suspect of something. Tim hadn't even known the original reason why they had left, though; nor the reason why they were planning to leave to visit the king again. If he wanted to both avoid making reproaches and acting weird he'd need to be careful.

"I'm sorry, I was just surprised." Tim's father still looked puzzled by Tim's reaction, but he didn't seem to care much so Tim guessed he could venture some questions. "Are you leaving before New Year? I'd need to know if I need to plan the festivities too or not."

"Oh, don't worry, our plans about visiting the King's court remain the same."

Silence fell on the room for a minute as relief flooded Tim, and he was about to excuse himself and return to his breakfast when his mother cleared his throat and glared at Jack.

"Ah, Tim, before you go, there was something your mother and I wanted to tell you." Jack's smile was strained enough to give Tim chills, and his mother's calm expression wasn't any better. Tim couldn't remember the last time he had seen them looking like that. "Son, you are growing up, and it's about time you get out of the castle and start seeing more of the world."

That was… a really promising start for something that was going to be terrible. Tim had no doubts about it.

"I guess." Tim allowed himself to hope for an instant. "Am I going to accompany you to King Bruce's court, then?"

His parents' nervous laughter was like a bucket of icy water dropped on his head.

"Well, you are going to a court, yes." This time it was his mother talking. "Congratulations, Tim, you are engaged."

Icy water bucket had been an understatement. Did engagement mean something else now that Tim wasn't aware of? Engaged to who? Nobody had told Tim that he was going to marry, or that anybody had been planning his marriage.

"To a prince, too!" Jack had taken Tim's silence as encouragement to continue talking. "Kon-El of Krypton is practically your age, and it's a seriously beneficial match for everybody. King Kal-El was incredibly helpful, even though we don't have any daughters, and it was about time we got some real connections to the royalty! You'll be marrying him in Metropolis before spring comes."

Tim's mother nodded in approval, and really, what was going Tim to reply? That nobody had asked for his opinion? That they were marrying him off to some guy he had never met in a country he'd never been to? Who was this Kon-El guy, anyways? From the sounds of it, they weren't even going to accompany him during the wedding. There were so many things wrong with the whole issue…

…and it wasn't like Tim could do anything about it, was it?

"I see." Tim straightened his robes. "Well, I'll go finish breakfast then. I'll see you later. Excuse me."


	8. Of drawings and conspiracies

Life came back to normal after the Drakes' arrival. Or at least, it came back to some kind of routine. To Damian, normal had been the way things were before, and ever since he knew about Tim's engagement nothing had been the same for him. He wanted his "normal" back.

On the outside, everything was the same: the Drakes spent an impressive amount of time out of the castle, be it hunting or checking the lands or visiting other villages. Often they would even spend the night, and Tim still had to do most of the administration and rule the castle in general. Damian was still his servant -he wondered if Tim's parents had even noticed his presence-, and outside the rare occasions in which they sat together to have dinner with their son -who they clearly hadn't missed half as much as they should have- Damian could pretend nothing had changed.

On the outside, that is.

Everything appeared different in Damian's eyes now. Tim was different. He was unhappy. He had probably been unhappy all the time Damian had known him, but it hadn't been like this. He had a certain light in his eyes, some energy -and it was all gone now. And it was all that stupid Kon-El's fault.

Tim's parents, of course, were at fault too. What were they thinking? They couldn't marry their son off like that, especially not to someone like the Krypton prince. Damian had seen him more than once at Gotham's court. He was shallow, unmannerly, loud, he would never understand Tim's interests, and in any case he was married already! To that girl from Themyscira! Krypton's laws might allow it, but Tim deserved to be a first spouse. In fact, he didn't need to share the title of spouse with anybody. Tim alone was more than enough, and Kon-El would never be able to make him happy.

Damian could make him happy. Not that he had any plans -or chances- to marry Tim, but he knew he could. He could get him all the books he wanted, nice cushions for drawing or reading, and hell, anything he could wish for. Warm baths, for example. He was sure Tim would appreciate them. Damian would definitely appreciate them, too. He missed his life back at the League sometimes.

It was getting harder to withstand seeing Tim's mood deteriorating day after day. Probably the fact that Damian told him everything he thought about Kon-El right after the boy confessed they were engaged didn't help. His only reply to Damian's comments was that he had to obey his parents on everything until he inherited the lands -therefore until they died.

Which was another preposterous norm, in Damian's eyes. Tim was an adult and he should be treated as such, and he shouldn't be forced into an arranged marriage for his parents' benefit. How could the King allow such a old fashioned law? He had looked like a reasonably intelligent person when Damian met him, but maybe he'd need to reevaluate his opinion.

There was nothing Damian could do, in any case. He was just a servant who would accompany Tim's parents to court, as Tim had already confirmed him. He wouldn't be able to take Tim with him because he couldn't run away on his own, and his chances of hiding Tim on his own parents expedition were- it was ridiculous just to think about it. Before all this happened, he could have waited until he got on the League and then send a small expedition to retrieve Tim, but now his only option was to form a small army and attack Krypton. Krypton was as powerful as the League, though, and there was no doubt Gotham would form an alliance with it before talking with the League, especially given how badly treated Damian himself had been. His chances of success were close to nonexistent.

At some point during his stance in the castle, Damian had become determined to start a war for Tim if it was necessary. Knowing Tim, though, the boy would want to follow his parents will, no matter how unhappy it made him. Damian could see it, on the firm lines of Tim's face as he kept filling reports. Reports that nobody would read, that he wouldn't even need, because the next harvest he would be far away, having been used as mere currency.

Damian was sitting relatively close to him, using the cold as an excuse -it wasn't really an excuse, it was unbearably cold for Damian- to get closer to the fire. Tim was concentrated, completely unaware of Damian's scrutiny. He could have been great on the League. He was hardworking, and intelligent, and he had talent. Nobody else in the Drakes lands could appreciate it. They didn't deserve Tim. One just needed to look at how unhappy they had made him in barely a couple of days: Damian hadn't seen Tim smile ever since that awful morning when his parents arrived.

He wished he could hold Tim's face in his hands and kiss his frown away.

He was doomed.

Dick stood up from his spot in the dark of the street corner as soon as the carriage got out of sight, taking the owners of the palace with it. It was a cold night, without a single star being visible on the night sky, and while Dick might be used to the weather, he had to learn that winter nights felt completely different in a comfortable castle or a cozy circus tent, than on a dark corner of the streets of Gotham for that mission. The wind cut through his rags almost like they weren't there.

His shaved head didn't help with the cold, and he really wanted to get rid of his facial hair, even if it didn't look completely like a real beggar's beard yet. Dick hoped he'd be able to shave it off before it did.

Feeling bad at looking worse, he could deal with that, no matter how vain some of his friends called him. Everything was part of serving to his King and father, of course, and as a soldier Dick couldn't -and wouldn't- complain. As much as he loved Bruce, though, the real reason he was there, dressed like less than a servant and waiting to sneak inside the palace like a criminal, was Damian.

It was true that he had only known the boy for a couple of years, and that he could sometimes be a real spoiled brat, but he had a good heart. Regardless of what everybody thought. Hopefully, he wouldn't be giving Tim a bad time.

Besides that, he had spent enough time with both Damian and Bruce to realize they were father and son. Even if Bruce had never confirmed Dick that Damian was, indeed, his son, everything he had done as soon as he found out that Damian's life was in danger, even at risk of starting a war, was more than enough proof for him. Not that Dick needed any: they both had the same ridiculous pout. In any case, if Damian was Bruce's son, then he was Dick's brother, and Dick was going to take care of his family.

Dick had been investigating for months now, and he knew he was close: Sir Thomas "Tommy" Elliot, cousin of the King, would get the crown if Bruce died without offspring -blood related, at least. Dick could never inherit the throne, not that he had ever wanted to. Sir Elliot had the means to look for someone to get Damian killed, and the character to want to do so in the first place. The only thing left was to get material proofs of it, enough to convince Bruce to deport him.

The whole affair was staining at least three more noble families, though, and if Dick had ever wanted to get the crown, he would have stopped at that. It was unbelievable that so much people would want to kill Damian. Admittedly, Damian wasn't the most charming and well behaved young man Dick had ever met -though he was sure he could be if he wanted-, but he was still a good person. Even if that was hard to see for some people. Everybody in the court had always seemed so nice, too…

But none of that mattered. The entrance to the palace was free and Dick had a mission.

He had always been agile, and the lack of his usual armor made him feel even lighter: soon he had jumped over the fence and gotten inside through one of the big open windows. The palace was immense, practically as big as the King's castle, and of course it was mostly empty. The Elliotts were important, but they couldn't rival with Bruce's power on their own, and of course they couldn't fill all of that ostentatious space. At least, that was the only explanation possible for them to keep the windows open with that weather. Probably they hadn't even noticed. The room Dick stepped didn't feel too used, but it was clean and the door wasn't locked. From there, he got to a corridor full of shadows and decorations. It was too recharged, tasteless even. As little as he liked the big dark spaces from the castle, Dick liked the palace even less.

After some time studying the distribution of the palace -the blueprints weren't all that hard to obtain, with how eager was Thomas Elliot to show the building to anybody with money- it wasn't hard to get to the library. The library there was more of a summer room than a proper library, too big and empty, but that made searching for the information Dick needed easier.

Or so he thought. Without being able to get any lights, the hours passed without Dick making any relevant discovery that would incriminate Thomas Elliot in the conspiracy to assassinate Damian. He had found some accounting books that might contain information, though, and personal correspondence with the handwriting too small to be read there. He'd have to be a slightly fatter beggar when he got out. Before anybody alerted the guards, he got out the palace and back into the cold night.

"Damian? Is everything alright?"

Damian blinked, startled. He hadn't even noticed he had been staring at him. It was happening more and more often in the last few days. And now Tim had noticed and looked concerned, the papers with sketches of birds he had been working on completely forgotten. Damian wanted to shake him, tell him to stop working on them, to leave all his normal life behind -that he would be leaving soon anyways- and go with Damian, responsibilities and family expectations be damned.

"Damian?"

(Can I kiss you?)

"I was distracted. No need to worry about me."


End file.
